Just Fine
by It'sOkayI'mAnAvenger
Summary: Civil War AU. Natasha has to decide whether or not she'll sign the accords. clintasha
1. Audacity

" _In accordance with the document at hand, I hereby certify that the below peoples and individuals, shall no longer operate freely or unregulated, but instead operate under the rules, ordinances and governances of the afore mentioned United Nations panel, acting only when and if the panel deems it appropriate or necessary."_

Natasha read the document before her. She wasn't sure what to think of it. It was completely ludicrous. The Avengers have caused damage, she'll admit, but only if it meant saving more than they lost. And the UN? No one should have so much power that they get to decide when and if someone needs the Avengers' help. She couldn't sign these accords. But not signing them meant retiring and she couldn't do that either. She had a world to protect and she couldn't just _retire_.

She looked up to see Clint sitting across from her. He was staring at the accords with his eyebrows crossed in frustration. She could tell he thought it was just as absurd as she thought it was. However, Natasha knew he was having no trouble deciding whether or not to sign them. There was no way he would. She had known this man for almost twenty years.

Clint was trying to figure out what idiot would think this, the accords, would solve anything. He kept reading out of curiosity, though. Every so often he would look up to gauge Natasha's reaction. As expected, it was always seemingly unfazed. He knew by looking in her eyes, though, that she was struggling on the inside. What's the right thing to do? For him, the answer was clear. For her? Not so much. He'd seen that look before many times, but time one in particular sticks out in his mind.

 _18 years ago_

"Hawkeye, do you have eyes on the mark? Over." Coulson's voice was heard over the comm.

"Affirmative. I have eyes on the mark. Over," he replied. Agent Barton pulls his bow string taught- his arrow ready to fly at any second- as he watched a blonde woman enter an old motel. He'd been given a top-secret mission: exterminate the Black Widow. However, he had apparently not been given all of the information. This girl was, well... a girl.

"Sir, I can't make this shot. Over," the hawk says over the comm, slowly releasing the pressure on his bow string.

"I thought you couldn't miss, _Hawkeye_ ," Coulson teased.

"I mean I can't kill this girl, Coulson."

"And why not?"

"She's _a kid_ , Coulson." Clint heard Coulson sigh deeply over the comm. Unfortunately, the older man understood all too well what the younger agent was trying to get across. He was doing exactly what Coulson had done for him. Giving her a chance at life.

Hawkeye watches through the tinted windows as the girl removes her wig and jacket. She moves to the other side of the room and picks something up. _Is that what I think it is?_ He takes a closer look through his scope and sure enough...

"She's got a kid in there."

Clint turned off his com. He needed to figure out a way to get the Black Widow to join SHIELD. _Is that what I'm doing? It seems so._ He needed to decide quickly; she'd be leaving soon. He started to pace. _What do I do? What do I do? How do I approach the deadliest woman in the world to offer her a job at a place that just sent someone to kill her?_ Before he knew it, Clint was at the door of her room, knocking. _WHAT AM I DOING? I can't just knock on her door!_

"Уходи!" he heard a voice say in Russian on the other side of the door.

"Мне надо поговорить с тобой," he fumbled. There was a pause, then the door cracked open. She peaked through the crack at him, unamused. [I need to speak with you.]

"Какие?" she snapped at him. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He didn't know _what_ to say. Maybe the truth? No not all of it. Her knowing he came to kill her wouldn't really help right now.

"Black Widow," he stated. Her face wasn't shocked like he expected; it stayed stone cold. Quickly, she grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him inside then slammed the door and shoved him against it. She pressed her fist against his throat, not enough to cut off his airways though. Not yet anyway. Clint was afraid for his life. He didn't know what she was going to do to him: maim him, rip out his throat, stab him. The possibilities were endless. He looked around the small room in search of the child he had seen earlier, but he didn't see it. Maybe he was mistaken.

"На кого ты работаешь?" she demanded. Clint just stared at her with wide eyes. He knew one phrase in Russian and he'd already said it. Unless, of course, she wanted to give him directions to the nearest bathroom, but he didn't find that likely. His silence frustrated her and she pressed her fist into his throat harder.

"Кто!" she shouted.

"I d-don't speak Russian," Clint fumbled out. He knew she spoke English. She sighed deeply and seemed to calm down.

"Who do you work for?" she asked with a thick accent. Clint finally _looked_ at her for the first time since he entered the small room. Her dark red hair was pulled back into a pony-tail with little baby hairs curling out around her hairline and she'd started to remove her make-up making her look a lot younger. She was wearing a worn t-shirt a pair of jeans, and some mix-matched socks. She almost looked _normal_ and that scared Clint more than anything because he knew what she was capable of. But it also reminded him of why he was here.

"I work for SHIELD."

" _SHIELD_ ," she repeated disdainfully, looking down for a moment, thinking. Then, as if she was just remembering the situation, she snapped her eyes back to his and asked, "Why are you here?"

Clint thought about how he should answer that. If he told her the truth, there was a chance she'd kill him. Or torture him. Or hold him hostage. Or all three. But there was also a chance she wouldn't. Granted, it was a small chance (really, _really_ small) but he liked to keep his options open. If he told her they sent him to recruit her she most likely wouldn't believe him and she didn't seem like she appreciated being lied to.

"They sent me to kill you," he stated plainly, gauging her reaction.

"And, why haven't you? You seem smart," she retorted.

"I don't think I should," he started and she froze. "I think you deserve a chance." Her eyes were wide, trying to analyze what his angle was. She would come to find out he had none.

"I saw the kid," Clint explained. "I want to offer you a job at SHIELD. You'd have protection- for you and the kid -and you wouldn't be alone. Trust me, we're the good guys." The woman thought it over for a second. She had _that look_ on her face. She was scared, he could tell, though it was masked. Her face and body said, "I can and _will_ kill you slowly" but her eyes… they told her story, no matter how hard she'd tried to bury it.

"And how do I know you _friends_ won't shoot me as soon as they find out you went against orders?" she asked. Clint hadn't really thought about that yet. What would happen when they got back to SHIELD HQ?

"They won't," he said, not entirely sure himself.

 _Present Day_

Natasha had that same look in her eyes then as she did now. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes. She thought the choices in front of her were both right, both wrong. He knew what he'd prefer her to do, but he'd learned long ago that Natasha didn't like being told what she could and couldn't do. So, he waited, watched. And, just like last time, Clint wasn't sure what she would decide.

Audacity /ôˈdasitē/

The willingness to take bold risks


	2. Mother

Natasha and Clint left the facility together. Once they were out of the building, Clint turned to her.

"You have to go to London." It was more of a statement then a question. He had long since gotten used to her making certain decisions on her own. It bothered him at first, but then he learned that it was because she used to not be able to make her own decisions. Sometimes she needed to make her own choices and he was okay with that.

"You know I have too," she said looking up at him. "I need to make sure he's alright."

Her eyes were concerned. He knew she had to go. Clint and the guys used to tease her about being the mom of the team. She was always making sure they ate, slept, and socialized. When she found out about it, she just told them they were all grounded. In all seriousness, she was a good mother; she always made sure each of her _children_ (biolological or not) were okay.

"I know. Go take care of your boys," he said with a smile. Any other time she would be annoyed by the joke, but not today. Natasha reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck while Clint put his arms around her waist in a tight hug.

"I'll be back soon," she said, slightly muffled against her arms. Clint kissed her on her cheek and pulled away with a smile.

"We'll be okay until you get back, Tash. Don't worry," he reassured.

"You're right. Okay," she smiled for a moment and then remembered something.

"Don't forget to help Alina with her project! She can't use the glue by herself and— "

"Natasha go," he interrupted, snickering. It amused him how, no matter how many times she had to leave for a day or two, she always worried that Clint would forget something. (Though, in her defense he did forget some things.) She stopped and pecked him on the lips.

"Alright. Love you," she says as he pulls her back in for another kiss.

"I love you too."

Mother / **muh** _ **th**_ -er/

A term of address for a female parent or a woman having or regarded as having the status, function, or authority of a female parent.


	3. Enouement

When Natasha left for London, Clint headed home. Well, he didn't really go _home_ (not yet anyway), but to their small house not far from the compound. James and Alina were waiting for him there. The radio was on when he started his truck (some local country station). When He'd taken Alina to so many playdates that when he grew tired of the music, instead of turning the volume of the radio down he reached up to his ear and turned the volume of his hearing aids down.

* * *

 _18 years ago_

After about a week at SHIELD Clint was the only one Natasha would speak to with the exception of Coulson, but even then, it was only professional. As a result, the was a (small) level of trust between the two. One that prompted Natasha to ask his opinion on hearing aids for her son, James who she recently learned was deaf. She regretted that decision. They had been arguing about whether or not Natasha should get James hearing aids for an hour. Clint thought she should, but Natasha , even though she started the conversation, was being stubborn and independent.

"Why do you care so much, Barton? It's not like he's your son!" she finally shouted.

"Because-" Clint stopped himself _. Because I know what it's like to be deaf. Because I know that it's going to be ten times worse because he's a kid. Because he's going to grow up wondering why he's different. And he'll get picked on and he won't have any friends. Because I know what it's like going to sleep at night and dreaming about hearing birds sing and waking up and I can't hear anything and wondering why. Because I know what it's like to have to learn a whole new language because I can't go through life reading lips._ That's what he'd wanted to say. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

"Because what, Barton?!" she demanded after a moment of silence. Clint sighed in resignation.

"I just don't want you to brush this off and say it doesn't make him any different. James _is_ different. "

"I know," she muttered sullenly.

* * *

 _Present Day_

When he got there, the house was relatively quiet until he fixed his aids, then he could hear Alina playing in the living room. Clint looked around for James and found him on the couch to his right. He was on his phone, most likely texting _Anna_. Clint _could_ tell him to get off his phone but at the moment he wasn't neglecting anything so Clint figured he'd leave him be. For now, anyways. Alina, hearing the front door close, jumped up from her spot on the floor and left her dolls behind.

"Daddy!" she exclaimed, running towards him.

"Hey, Little Bird!" Clint caught her in his arms and hugged her tight.

"Is Momma still working?" she asked, disappointed to see her mother was not with him when he returned like he'd said she would be. Clint hated that.

"No, mom's not working, but she did have to help Uncle Steve—"

"IS UNCLE STEVE OKAY?!" she gasped and Clint had to keep from laughing. He was pretty sure Steve was Alina's favorite person on the planet. Maybe second to Pepper.

"He's okay, he's just sad and he needed a friend to be with him right now," Clint explained. "Go ahead and pack up your dollies; it's time to go home."

"Okay," she said and walked back to where her dolls were on the floor.

"Dad," James said. Clint turned to his son, now standing beside him.

"Yes?"

"Where _is_ mom?" he asked.

"She's in London, at a funeral," Clint answered and before anything else was discussed Alina was running past them.

"Shotgun!" she exclaimed, running through the front door.

"Nice try, hot shot!"

 **Enouement**

The bitter sweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.


	4. Unusual Normlity

Natasha was on a plane to London and she hated it. She didn't hate that she was going to support Steve, she hated that she was disappointing her kids. She knew they were expecting her to go home with them. But what she hated more was that she knew they wouldn't be surprised. Her children had gotten used to last minute, emergency missions that didn't leave a lot of time for goodbye kisses. Hopefully, since she's going for their uncle, they won't be too terribly resentful. Deep down she knew they wouldn't resent her anyways, though. She would come home and they would be glad she was finally back and then they would all carry on as if it were normal. That's what she hated the most. That they were never bothered by how abnormal it was. Her life had ever been normal anyway.

* * *

 _8 months after joining SHIELD_

Coulson needed to talk to his strike team about a report that had yet to be filed. He knocked on Natasha's door first (where else would Barton be?) and waited. Natasha opened the door and went right back into the tiny, S.H.I.E.L.D. issued apartment.

"Hello to you too, Agent Romanoff," he said sarcastically as he followed her into the kitchen where, sure enough, Barton was stirring something on the stove with a dish towel over his shoulder.

"Sorry, Coulson," the woman apologized halfheartedly, returning to the vegetables that were half chopped on a cutting board.

" _Anyways,_ I came to remind you that you both have yet to file that report- " Coulson was interrupted by 13 month old James crying in the living room.

"Hang on a second." Natasha stomped her foot three times. James' cries only grow louder.

"I give up! Your stupid trick doesn't work, Barton!" she said exasperatedly.

"It only doesn't work because you're not stomping hard enough. He has to feel the vibrations. Here, watch." Barton then stomps his foot hard and the baby quietens. Coulson has no idea what just happened.

* * *

 _Present Day_

Natasha smiled at the memory, wishing life could always be like that: where they were always together, but she knew that couldn't happen. Not when there was a world to save. The accords still sat in front of her, unsigned.

Unusual Normality

* * *

AN: Stomping can actually calm deaf children! If their parent leaves the room and they get upset the parent can stomp. The baby can feel the vibrations and are therefore calmed, knowing their parent is near. I thought that was so interesting.


	5. Genesis

Steve stayed behind in the church. Natasha came to check on him and found him leaning against the end of a pew. Natasha went to stand across from him.

"When I came out of the ice," he started. "I thought everyone I had known was gone. When I found out she was alive… I was just lucky to have her."

"She had you back too," she smiled.

"Who all signed?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Tony, Rhodey, Vision," Natasha listed. "Just because it's the path of least resistance doesn't mean it's the wrong path. Staying together is more important than how we stay together." That's what she'd been telling herself. She still wasn't entirely sure she knew what the right decision was.

"What are we giving up to do it? I'm sorry, Nat. I can't sign it."

"I know," she said and paused for a moment. "I don't think I can either," she realized. Steve raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. He had expected Natasha to side with Stark. He can't say he was shocked though.

"I've got more important things to occupy my time," she explained. He just nodded in agreement, knowing exactly what she was speaking about.

"Well then, what are you still doing here?" he teased. Natasha just smiled.

"I've gotta make sure all my boys are okay. . . Did I ever tell you, when I first came to SHIELD, there was a doctor examining James. I think Clint had left for something, I don't remember what, but when he came back I had the doctor's shirt in my fist. His eyes were wide as saucers and he just stood there stuttering!" she started to laugh. Steve laughed out loud at the image she gave. Natasha smiled at the memory as well. "He said that James' hearing was bad. I was so naïve and worried and defensive. I didn't stop to realize where we were, that we were safe and together. Sometimes I get sidetracked but if I just think of that moment… I'm reminded of what's most important.

Steve smiled, but after a moment of silence he remembered where they were and his smile fell slightly.

"You know after everything happened with SHIELD, during my little hiatus, we went to Russia and tried to find my parents. Two little gravestones by a chain linked fence. Pulled some weeds and left some flowers… We have what we have when we have it. I'd like to have the Avengers, like to consider them family. But I have a family and they need to come first."

"Come here," she said, opening up her arms and stepping forward to embrace her friend.

"Thanks, Nat."


	6. Epilogue

Clint climbed into his mud-covered truck with Alina buckled into her car seat and James in the passenger seat. As the drove home, folk music played in the background. Alina wanted to play the alphabet game so they played with her. Clint looked into his rear-view mirror at Alina, who was telling James that "you can't say 'that place over there' as something that starts with the letter 't'". He just smiled

* * *

 _12 Years Ago_

Clint drove his old, beat up truck down Interstate 80. Natasha slept in the passenger seat and James woke up from his own nap between them. The older of the boys quickly glanced down at the younger and began to think.

"We're gonna be alright, aren't we bud?" Barton asked rhetorically and turned up the radio after a few minutes of silence. Country music filled the truck and though James couldn't hear it, he seemed to enjoy himself. James laughed and so did Clint. The change in volume of the radio woke Natasha and she smiled hearing them laugh. She then pretended to be annoyed by the horrible racket that came from the radio.

"You know you love it!" Clint shouted over the music with a huge grin on his face and sang along as loud as he could.

They drove and drove, until they passed a sign telling them where they were, and they drove some more. Clint sang obnoxiously and Natasha complained about how horrid he sounded. And for now, they were truly happy. Missions and terrible childhoods were forgotten. It was just them and they were just fine.

 _The People of Iowa Welcome You_


End file.
